


to bring about the ruin to the promised land

by Alkarinque



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, Gen, kingship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 13:55:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15973706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alkarinque/pseuds/Alkarinque
Summary: “I would like to be king one day”, Elros said, a child looking up at stars.His mother looked scared, thinking of her own crown and imagining such a weight breaking her son’s neck. His father only looked down, thinking of kings and blood and fire.His brother only smiled, knowing exactly what he meant.





	to bring about the ruin to the promised land

**Author's Note:**

> This is a really, really short work compared to my other ones, but I got a burst of inspiration. The title is from Queen's song "My Fairy King."
> 
> This is not very coherent (rather the opposite). I did not write it like a normal story, but more poetic, so be warned.
> 
> It is, though, quite the summary of how I headcanon Elros and Elrond's relationship to have evolved through their time spent together.

“I would like to be king one day”, Elros said, a child looking up at stars.

He had never seen a king, but he imagined one looking strong like his mother and with sunlight in the face like his father but happier and safer than both of them.

His mother looked scared, thinking of her own crown and imagining such a weight breaking her son’s neck. His father only looked down, thinking of kings and blood and fire.

His brother only smiled, knowing exactly what he meant.

 

Elros had known kingdoms could burn, but he had never thought his own would. Foolish of him; had he ever heard of any kingdom still standing?

 

“Could I be a king one day?” Elros asked, older but not old enough and aware of it.

Maglor is alarmed, much like Elwing was, but his thoughts are filled with memories of smoke and hope, and banners trod into dust, and the thought: _he could, and he would die like all others._ Maedhros only laughs, a whole thing coming from something not whole anymore, and says: _child, anyone can with a crown._ But his voice is bitter, like he knows the end of a story. Like he means to add: _but it does little._

Elrond frowns, perplexed. Asks: “Why would you want that?”

 

Maglor talks to him and Elros realises kings are not very special; they are people trying and not always succeeding. People who tries and only has one chance, because when they fail they die. And they always do. But they are only people trying.

It was not what Maglor meant but Elros knows when he has found a truth and holds onto it.

 

“I will be a king”, Elros said, grown with ghosts of the War of Wrath and the sight of his father against black Ancalagon still in his mind.

He remembered his childhood and thought there had been more truth in his dreams of happiness and safety than he had first thought. His people – _his_ people, for now he was elf no longer – had built ships to sail and search and find and now his head bore a crown.

Elrond turned away, as he had done many times by then; no longer understanding.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this short, little drabble! If you liked it, give it a kudos or perhaps even a comment!


End file.
